This is not a story of regret or repentance. It’s a story about how everything worked out perfectly.
Fifteen years ago in the early summer of 2004, I got pregnant and chose to have an abortion. The reasons are many, but the only one that really matters is that I wanted to decide my future instead of malfunctioning birth control deciding it. As a modern-day human, it was very important to me to have a family of my choosing with the person of my choosing at a time of my choosing.
That spring, I had just moved to Seattle from Portland, Oregon for my dream job at Microsoft. At first, I had a very hard time meeting new people and making friends, so I joined a softball team and signed up on Match.com. Continue reading “The Poetry of My Abortion Story”
Column 119 – As a new mother, trying to reconcile the existence of both infinite love and prevalent evil proves futile. Life right now is about my baby’s bright smile. Just as it should be.
The sound, soft and reminiscent, didn’t register at first. As wakefulness spread across my body like a good brandy warming the belly, I realized the novel sound was a first spring rain. The ground lay white with snow still, our woods gray and dreary. But to hear and see the rain from the vantage of first morning’s light felt delicious, almost exhilarating. Continue reading “The Bidding of Love”
Column 117 – The world is changing…but not fast enough.
Mud season is nearly upon us. Or, rather, under us. Soon it’ll be tracked in on muck boots, on the back of everyone’s pant legs, coating our vehicles and painting our progress towards spring. This time of year the snow is going, but not fast enough. Or so my mind whispers when I imagine putting the boots away and having the freedom of leaving home in mere flip flops or even barefoot. Continue reading “Not Fast Enough”
Several times over the past week I sat down to write about the serious topics at hand and it just didn’t work. I thought I was ready, and I am, but life as it tends to do had other plans.
When it comes to writing, I’ve learned not to force it. It’s no good if I do. The words will come when they’re ready. When conditions are right. Like the weather. Or spring blooms. Or a good bowel movement.
“Mom, why is there poop on the carpet?” the six-year old asked loudly. Continue reading “Surrounded”
This likely won’t be the place to get any sort of Angle update anytime soon, just as it hasn’t been for the past many months. My view is submerged. My season is hibernation. My mind is single-tracked. And my cub is the reason.
Kids. Plural. Yes, I’m still jangling on that. Continue reading “Periscope Down”
“Go sit down, Love,” he says, rubbing the small of my back as he passes me in the kitchen.
Baby Julian’s been asleep for half an hour. And after bath time, story time, last ditch run-around time, glass of water time, and two dozen loudly whispered “SHHHHHH’s” on our part, five-year old Iris is finally in bed too.
He tells me to go sit down every night on his way to go sit down. He takes his usual place on the couch, gets out his Kindle and settles in. “I will,” I say, looking at my comfortable blue reading chair. Continue reading “This Precious Time”
It seems as if the creating phase of any venture lends itself to both excitement and worry. Am I making the right decisions? Should I have done it this way? What if…? are all questions my head will flip and squish and analyze from every angle all night long.
And as the project nears completion, when there is less to be done but also less that can be changed, the stress builds. Continue reading “When Sleep Won’t Come”
We marked the last day of regular firearms deer season with a dinner of fresh venison and grouse. The glass door had gotten the grouse, so no license was required there. Cut very thin, lightly breaded and fried, both meats were a hit with the five-year old.
Bow season continues and muzzle loader opens this weekend, but even though he’ll likely bring home one more deer, I should get to see a bit more of my orange-clad partner now.
We made the hour+ trip to town together one day last week, and our conversation was like one from a sitcom. Both in our own separate worlds, he was focused on the hunt and I was focused on the birth. I later apologized for my one-track mind, and he laughed. “Me too,” he said sheepishly. Continue reading “One-Track Mind”
Two months in and most days we still ride together as a family to drop the kindergartner off at The Angle’s one-room school house. She loves it, doesn’t want to leave afterward and calls every one of her classmates her friend. As we were getting into the truck on that first day back in early September, she was a bubbling mass of excitement and told us as she hefted her new backpack up onto the seat that it was “the importanest day” of her life.
Her papa’s eyes met mine and we both smiled. Continue reading “November”